


Lap Dance

by quicksparrows



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, lap dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sensual lap dance between two people with feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lap Dance

**Author's Note:**

> At the time of writing I hadn't played the game or even read many supports, but I have friends in the fandom who have a mighty thirst and I tried my best. ;) If that scares you off, read later works.

There's little entertainment to be found on the road, but fortunately they have a dancer in their convoy.

Night after night, the members of the convoy gather around the bonfires after dinner and cajole Olivia into dancing for them. After war stories and rousing debates and plenty of carousing, a dance by a beautiful artist is the perfect nightcap to their evening. Sometimes, perhaps once every few nights, she indulges them.

In turns they gasp and cheer and sit in awe as Olivia dances, silhouetted against the fire and at times stepping so closely to it that she might as well be part of the flame. She is both light and shadow at once, her long sashes a shimmering vision, her body writhing to the sound of whatever folk music they've chosen to sing that night. It could be hours they watch her, for how enrapturing it is, but truthfully she only dances for them all once a night.

Dancing is her special brand of magic, the kind that few women in Ylisse or even the world beyond it will ever wield, let alone master. To see such a thing is a privilege of those Olivia would readily perform for.

Some evenings, however, there is one person she'll do a second dance for.

Once the fire has died down and their comrades have gone to bed, Olivia slips into Chrom's tent. He looks up when the heavy curtain falls closed behind her, and for some reason, he's the one that's slightly nervous. She's still dressed in her dancer's attire, save the gold jewelry and cuffs she'd usually wear into battle –– it has a strange effect of making her look naked despite her clothes, and Chrom's heart skips a beat as he looks her over. Her bare wrists and throat are as pale as her inner thighs.

"I couldn't sleep," she says softly, and she clasps her hands behind her back as she says it. Her breasts stick out a little more for it, which Chrom notices. 

"You could try sleeping here," he says, and he's earnest about it for a whole host of reasons: his budding romantic feelings for her, his desire for her, and his genuine want for her comfort. He feels those things every time he sees her, whether it's in the midst of battle or her figure at the foot of his bed.

Olivia approaches him, appearing almost troubled. She plays with her own hands again, moving them in front of her, fiddling. 

"I'm just not tired," she says, almost sheepish. When Chrom just blinks at her, she grows a little bolder: "I suppose dancing earlier got me all worked up. I've been practicing some new moves, you see, but I thought if I showed them to you, you'd..."

She trails, and Chrom leans forward a little more, enough that he's no longer leaning on his arms but rather sitting upright in bed.

"I could tell you what I think?" Chrom finishes for her.

Olivia smiles, eyes dropping for a moment, and the flush of colour across her cheeks is as vivid as her hair.

"Something like that," she replies. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable with anyone else."

Their eyes meet, and for all her shyness, there's an intensity in her warm eyes that makes all the blood rush in Chrom's veins.

"I'd be honored," he says.

Olivia comes closer by a step, just enough to reach out with her hand. He takes it and lets her guide him from his bed, and Chrom follows her with a budding anticipation, not daring to break her gaze. In fact, he very nearly stumbles largely for the distraction of her letting him come within inches of her before she pushes him to sit on the trunk at the foot of his bed. 

"Do you want me to do anything?" Chrom says, somewhat sincerely, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth already.

"Just watch," Olivia says, and then she slips her hand from his.

And then she starts: slow, at first, the sway of her body so subtle that it takes a moment for Chrom to appreciate the way she moves. She turns, back to him, and then he barely has a moment to appreciate her ass just within his reach before she's turning around again. Without music, he finds himself all that much more focused, and he just stares, mouth slightly open. 

This could be a dream, he thinks, idly. Her movements are slow, slow enough that he can appreciate the preciseness of it –– the way her stomach stretches and flexes when she raises her arms over her head, the way her own lips part when she drops her body down, the way she slides a hand down her thigh as she moves. He relishes every turn, even if it feels like a tease, her sculpted back as beautiful as the fullness of her breasts, low dip of her thong. 

"Wow," he says, despite himself.

She slows even more, almost maddening, and she leans over him in a way that brings the tip of her nose inches from his.

"Shh," she says, one finger ghosting a 'shush' over his lips. "Just watch."

And then she pivots, almost in his lap, and she rolls her hips in such a way that she could almost rub against his groin. She slides up and down, and when Chrom can't resist reaching to place a hand on her hip from behind, she keeps going, closer and closer but never quite touching him any more than a graze. 

His heart has never beat so fast.

Olivia turns again, smooth as ever, and Chrom's eyes rove up her body as she turns. She slides a knee along his thigh, braced against the wooden trunk, and her other leg slips between his thighs. 

This close, face-to-face, Chrom can see she's getting aroused, too. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips parted, and when she casts a brief-but-lingering look down, she sees the bulge in his pants. Chrom lifts a hand again, but this time, instead of putting a hand chastely on her hip, he reaches to cup her vulva.

Olivia inhales, sharp and gasping.

She's wet through her panties.

The dance changes, then –– the routine disappears. Olivia rolls her hips towards him, and he keeps with her. It takes him a second, but he manages to work a finger past her thong, and god, her slow and sensual hip rolls become just so slightly more unrestrained. She practically grinds against his hand, even as she hovers above his lap, and for either balance or a desire to be close she wraps her arms around his neck.

Face-to-face again, Chrom finds himself pulled into a rather sudden kiss. For all her softness as a person, she's surprisingly hungry in her kisses, but god, couldn't anyone be with the stroke of a finger? He's certainly hungry, too. Who couldn't be hungry, having seen Olivia in the moment? 

And then she's straddling him entirely, bringing up her other knee and pressing against him so that he's forced to withdraw his hand in favour of holding her close to him. Still she keeps "dancing" –– he grips her hips and she continues to roll them over and about, practically stroking him with her vulva, and she releases his neck so that she can reach up to undo the clasp of her costume. 

The silks of her top fall away, revealing the whole of her breasts, which rise in Chrom's face and stand pertly away from her body. He breathes in and he breathes in the smell of her, some lotus-and-amber perfume where plum meets sandalwood and musk. She's beautiful, and he dips his head to press a kiss to the swell of her breast, and then another, and another.

Olivia undoes another clasp, and the top falls away entirely. Stripped to the waist save long locks of pink hair falling over her shoulders, she's warm to the touch and the expanse of her pale skin invites Chrom to touch all of it, please all of it. She keeps gyrating against him, faster, and he runs his hands up her sides. Her skin is warm, and she lets her head fall back when he moves his kisses up her collarbone. Her control is incredible –– he could marvel at her ability to grind him while her upper body is almost completely stable if he weren't so gripped by desire for her.

That desire is so intense that she has no difficulty pulling an orgasm from him. In scarcely a moment since climbing into his lap, he has to pause in kissing her to recollect himself, but she's too good and suddenly he's locked up and groaning as he comes in his own pants. He grips her tighter, enough to still her for a moment, and then he's gasping against her chest.

Olivia makes an amused sound, one that is warm and pleased and loving. She moves again under his grip, just enough to rock against him, and Chrom gathers himself together again while she strokes his hair, rides him through the moment.

"What do you think?" she whispers, and Chrom gives a tired laugh.

"I don't know what I expected," he admits.

Flushed but obviously a little proud, Olivia just nods. Then, she adds: "You liked it."

Chrom laughs, fuller that time. 

"I loved it," Chrom says, and he's gripped by the same boldness that possesses her when she dances: "I love you."

If it were even possible, Olivia's blush deepens. 

"I love you too," she says a little breathlessly. 

Despite the rubbery feeling in his muscles, Chrom finds himself strengthened by her words. He sits forward, abruptly enough that Olivia suddenly clings to his neck so she doesn't get knocked backwards, and he hooks his arms under her thighs and lifts her with him as he rises to his feet. She's startled, but he laughs, emboldened.

"I love you," he repeats, and the full weight of her against him is bracing, and the look on her face is delighted, even if surprised.

In five long strides, he takes her to his bed, and he sets her down. Seated before him, she gazes up at him, and when he lingers on his feet just to stare down at her, she reaches up for him, beckoning him to lay atop her. 

"Lord Chrom," she says, and her breasts heave with how deeply she's breathing.

He lowers himself to his knees on the floor.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he says, reaching to take her by the thighs, and Olivia leans back on her hands. He pulls her towards him, so that her hips are at the edge of the bed, and without any further guidance, Olivia hooks her legs over his shoulders.

And then, with a flush creeping across his own face, he says: "But I'm good with my mouth."


End file.
